


A Day of Love and Red

by ElizaXSpears



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Blood, Decapitation, Horror, M/M, Not your typical Grelliam fic, Originally I wrote this for Valentine's Day 2015, Unrequited Love, rewriting it for October 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2019-01-10 11:26:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12298305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElizaXSpears/pseuds/ElizaXSpears
Summary: "You always did forget this special day..."





	A Day of Love and Red

**Author's Note:**

> Like I said int he tags, this was an old Valentine's Day fic I wrote in 2015. Since it's October, I figured I'd update it, though it's still a Valentine's fic.

“You always did forget this special day…”

 

Peace in the office for Mr. Spears was rare commodity. Almost always, there was someone barging into his office for some stupid, mundane reason or the Higher Ups demanding he leave his desk to clean up whatever mess his reapers made. Peace was something William found himself silently begging for at the start of everyday and it was something he was never granted.

 

Then there were those rare days where he was granted that simple wish.

 

The sky outside was cloudy, overcast. The sun not daring to try breaking through the thick layer of grey. It was evening when the rain began. Whatever light was outside had faded now, letting go to the darkening sky as heavy, fat, rain drops pelted down, hitting hard against his office window. Normally the sound of a harsh rainstorm would irritate him, but on this day, it did nothing but ease his tension. Shoulders that were always squared and dropped just slightly, his straight back relaxing just a little. Even the unforgiving grip of his pen eased just that little bit.

Thunder boomed loud enough to snap his attention from his paperwork to the window, brow now furrowed. Setting down the ink pen and pushing out his chair, he approached his window to draw closed the curtains despite not muffling the thunder in the slightest. Something practically warned him to lock the window, his fingers inches from doing just that, when the lights went out. They flickered briefly before completely dying.

Irritation was clear as day on his face, forgetting the window to return to his desk, seeking out his lighter to light the lone candle on his desk. The orange glow of the flickering flame illuminated just enough of his desk, allowing him to continue his paperwork with minimal trouble. Part of him assumed the backup generator would kick in but the longer he waited, the more he became anxious, a feeling he wasn’t used to.

It was late when he checked his watch. Everyone would have clocked out by now, leaving him alone in a pitch black, empty, building. Not that he was frightened by that prospect, this had happened before; a storm cutting the power to the office building, but the generator had always worked. It might have taken variations of time to do just that, but it always did and William could careless about the dark. Now, however, there was something in the pit of his stomach, something heaving, like a brick. One hand rubbed absently at his chest, as if that would alleviate some of this feeling; it didn’t help.

Rounding his desk, he decided to just open his door, to see if maybe his office was the only room affected; not even his footsteps broke the suddenly eerie quiet.

 

HIs fingers curled around the silver knob.

The hinges creaked as it opened.

There was nothing.

 

Looking up down the hallway, he was greeted by nothing except the inky blackness. When he closed the door, he rested his palm against the cool wood, that feeling in his stomach spreading toward his chest. Something wasn’t right.

Just as he turned to retrieve his suit jacket and leave, he was shoved up against the door, a shoulder slamming hard into his abdomen, a familiar scythe pressed dangerously close to the skin of his throat. Lighting flashed from the open window, momentarily illuminating the maniacs insane, shark toothed grin. “Sutcliffe.” he stated, forcing his voice to be steady.

“Hello darling,” the redhead purred, “I’ve missed you. Have you missed me?”

“Let me go.” William demanded, raising one hand to push at the scythe.

Grell’s other hand snatched William’s, knocking it away and pinning it to the door next to his head, the teeth of Grell’s scythe puncturing little holes into William’s flesh. “Why would I do that when I have your right here?” satisfied William wouldn’t try pushing the scythe away, Grell released his hand, using the same one to trace down William’s cheek, feeling the defined bones under his featherlight touch. “Besides, I’d hate to ruin such soft, beautiful, skin.”

“Let. Me. Go.” he tried again, adding a dangerous growl he hoped would deter Grell.

The red head’s grin turned into a snarl, the scythe pressed just that much harder to his throat. “I said, hush.” Grell sneered.

William swallowed, feeling the blade scratch his Adam’s Apple as it bobbed. “Grell, please. Let me go.” he softened his tone, hoping that would somehow please the redhead. Perhaps showing a softer, weaker side, would be far enough from the Cold Prince Grell had declared him as so many times, the maniac would tire of him.

Instead, the redhead leaned in, the red droplets slipping from the markings on William’s neck licked up by the redhead's tongue. “Sweet, unlike you.” Grell pouted, laying his head to William’s shoulder, inhaling deeply the scent of William’s cologne. “Why did you always have to push me from you? Am I parasite to you Will?”

“I never said you were.” once more, he tried to ease the redhead off him. Again, Grell halted him, the scythe a warning to keep still. “Sut-Grell, please. We can talk, can we not?”

“Talk?” the red head scoffed. “How often have I talk and how many times have you shoved your scythe in my face?” a sweet laugh escaped the red heads soft, uncurled lips. “Now look at this. I’m in charge tonight.”

“I think n—”

“Darling,” Grell warned, “you don’t have a say in anything I want to do with you, tonight, or tomorrow, or ever again. I’m no longer in the mood for this game you’ve been playing with me.” William never thought his last breath would be taken in the small, dark office. Grell shoved the scythe froward, easily slicing William’s head from his body. The cropped crumbled to the floor with Grell’s scythe, the red heads hands securing the reapers head still to the door. Wide eyes were the permanent expression upon the decapitated head. Grell’s hands eased William’s head to the red heads arms, cradling it there. “Now look at us, _darling_. I can finally stare into those gorgeous eyes without having to hear you lecture me.” Red, manicured fingers drifted through onyx locks, red lips kissing a pale cheek. “Now, let’s…” eyes flicked to the body, a contemplating frown resting upon those lips before deciding to stay just a little longer. The red head sat down, pulling the body to lean against him, still cradling the head close. “You always did forget this special day, but now we have spend everyday together.” for the first time, their lips met in a sweet, bloodied kiss. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Will.”


End file.
